


It’s a Shame

by softandrew



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Sad, Unrequited Love, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-22 14:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17061188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softandrew/pseuds/softandrew
Summary: As soon as he said it, he realized that he was wrong. It was selfish to tell Garrett he couldn't take a distance from Andrew. Andrew had, after all, just told Garrett he'd never love him.Ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t happy. I’m sorry.

Louise in the group chat: is gandrew even real   
Me: oh no 

I'm sorry for this. Blame Louise. 

 

Also, just a little warning: this isn't going to be happy and there are some mentions of content you may find disturbing if you suffer from a mental illness. This may be triggering for you and I wouldn't suggest reading this. 

 

•••

 

1 unread message from Andrew Siwicki   
Andrew Siwicki  
it's a shame you didn't keep it. 

Garrett  
I decided losing my ear from an incredibly painful infection in favor of looking like a badass was probably not the best idea. 

Andrew Siwicki  
That's too bad.   
I kind of liked it.

Garrett  
You did?

Andrew Siwicki  
I mean yeah. It suited you. That is, it would have when it healed. 

Garrett  
I mean, agreed. 

Andrew Siwicki  
There was one other part of the video that got me, though. 

Garrett  
Oh?

Andrew Siwicki  
The face you made. When Morgan said to call me. Why did you do that? You looked like you were nervous. 

Garrett  
I was just nervous about what you would think. 

Andrew Siwicki  
That's a lie, Garrett.  
Did I do something?

Garrett  
Oh, Andrew, no.

Andrew Siwicki  
Then what was it, Garrett?

Garrett  
I was nervous to talk to you because I like you, Andrew. 

Andrew Siwicki  
I know, Garrett.

Garrett  
You do?

Andrew Siwicki  
Of course I know, Garrett. 

Andrew Siwicki  
I miss you. 

Garrett  
I didn't think you'd want to be around me. It's been awkward lately, Andrew. 

Andrew Siwicki  
I know. I feel like some of that is my fault. I hope you don't think I don't want to spend time with you. 

Andrew Siwicki  
Because that couldn't be farther from the truth. 

Andrew Siwicki  
Garrett?  
Read 1:37 a.m.

Andrew grumbled something inaudible and his heart clenched in his chest. He'd been avoiding Garrett just as much as Garrett had been avoiding Andrew and they'd both been getting flack for it from Shane. He just couldn't bear to be in the same room as Garrett and know that neither of them could stand to look at the other. He felt bad for laughing at Garrett's jokes and it being taken as flirting. But he couldn't exactly tell Garrett that he was having a gay crisis™️ and Garrett was the reason.

 

A knock to his door and Andrew glanced up. His eyes flicked over to the baseball bat he'd bought when he moved to LA and it has stayed in relatively the same place in all his moves (against the wall under a jacket). 

Tonight was the first time he considered it.

He crept to the door and stands behind it, cursing his landlord for not putting in a fucking peephole. He took a deep breath and cracked the curtain just enough to see a dark figure looming outside of his window. He bit the inside of his wrist to keep from screaming and swung open the door and the bat at the same time.

He didn't realize it was Garrett until after he hears a high-pitched "Andrew, wait!" followed by a thud as Garrett hits the ground. 

And, well, shit. Andrew didn't really think this through. 

***

Andrew sat next to Garrett on the couch, holding the bag of ice on his head and flinching every time Garrett winced. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"It's okay, Andrew. I should have talked to you before just showing up." Andrew sighed. This wouldn't have happened two months ago. Hell, this wouldn't have happened two weeks ago, but something had changed between them and Andrew couldn't figure out what.

He ran a hand over his face and turned to look at Garrett. There was a bump forming on the side of Garrett's head, a blue and black lump that would probably not go away for a while. He moved to touch it but when Garrett jerked away from him he nearly sobbed in frustration. Garrett realized what he had done, instinctually, when before he'd have been leaning into Andrew's touch.

"Oh, no, Andrew, I--"

"What's wrong with us, Gare?" It was whispered and vulnerable, quiet underneath Andrew's breath. This time when he reached out, he touched Garrett's hand. 

"We used to know each other; I would have known you were coming over and I would have just left the door unlocked for you. Hell, you wouldn't have face-timed me to show me your ear I would have been the one to do it." This last part was hard to say and Garrett could hear the pain, sensed the hurt that Andrew felt. They'd barely missed each other the last few days, but they'd done a damn good job of making sure neither of them were at the house with Shane an Ryland. 

Garrett closed his eyes and leaned into the couch behind him.

"I don't know, Andrew."

"Garrett, I think you do." 

Garrett gulped, eyes screwing up in pain as the cold ice soothed his eyes. "I made things awkward when I told Ryland, Andrew. I never should have said anything and -- fuck, now I've ruined us. We were so good, 'drew. We were unstoppable. All these years we were fine and I was fine and I had to go and fuck it up because I fell in love with you."

Garrett was crying. For all of Garrett's sensitivity, Garrett never cried. But he was crying now. He sobbed into his hands and he made himself small. 

Andrew felt his own eyes water and he pulled Garrett into his arms.

"You didn't even ask me how I felt about losing my best friend. Garrett, you didn't consult me when you decided to do this little dancing game. You didn't ask me, if I was okay with losing you." Andrew choked this out and held Garrett tighter.

"I've known for years, Gare. It was just something that happened. I'm your best friend, and you're in love with me. It's part of our dynamic. But you realize it shouldn't have to be the end of us, okay? I -- I don't know how... I don't know how you feel, Gare. I can't know. But I know that I don't want to lose you because I'm not sure how to react. That isn't fair to you or our friendship. It might be selfish, but -- but Garrett I would rather have you."

As soon as he said it, he realized that he was wrong. It was selfish to tell Garrett he couldn't take a distance from Andrew. Andrew had, after all, just told Garrett he'd never love him. 

Ever.

"I... Andrew I have to go." Garrett's voice was undetectably small as he pushed himself up. Tears spilled from his face as he pushed past Andrew and through the door. Andrew had to sit, mouth agape, on his couch because he couldn't bear to see Garrett driving away.

And, well, shit. Andrew didn't really think that through. 

•••

"Do you think you guys will ever go back to how you were before?" Ryland sat on the veranda with a coffee cup of peach moscato and watched Andrew down his third vodka soda. They rarely had these talks, these heart to hearts, but Ryland gave good advice and he liked to drink and talk.

"He hasn't talked to me in 2 weeks. I doubt it." Andrew swirled the mixed drink in the In-N-Out white plastic cup Ryland had given him. 

"Have you tried to--"

"He blocked me, Ryland." 

The finality of this gesture, something Garrett would never do, sent shivers down both of their spines and Ryland downed the rest of his mug without much trouble. 

Shane walked out then, blanket wrapped around his arms and climbed solemnly into the chair beside Ryland. He opened his arms out, blanket hanging off them like wings and he motioned for Ryland to climb in them.

As Ryland got settled, Shane cleared his throat and spoke softly.

"Morgan got him to answer finally, and talked to him. He fell asleep in the cemetery last night."

Andrew's heart clenched and he rolled into himself. His stomach flared and twisted on itself and he retched onto the concrete beside him.

He stayed down, head between his legs as he tried to regain his bearings. Shane and Ryland whispered to each other.

"He only goes when --"

"When he's thinking about death."

Andrew's head shot up and he knew immediately why Garrett had been so distant. 

"Shane. I... He's only done this one other time." He paused and closed his eyes, trying to push the though out of his mind but it just kept eating at him until he finally gasped out,

"Shane, he's thinking about killing himself." 

Realization dawned on all of them and they jumped up. Andrew grabbed Ryland's unlocked phone from his hand and dialed the familiar number, praying he picked up.

"Straight to voicemail, it didn't even ring through. Shane," Andrew sobbed out as they rushed to the Jeep. 

"Just keep trying him. Call his landlord. Call his neighbors. Call Drew and tell him to meet us there. He'll get there faster than we can. Then call the fucking cops. Fuck, fuck how did we not see this sooner."

They sped down the hill, Andrew sobbing out directions to Drew (he was the only one who would pick up this late in the evening) and the kind 911 operator.

"Sweetie, is your friend on any medication that could have listed suicidal thoughts as a side effect?" Andrew wracked his brain and immediately answered. 

"Probably not. He stops taking them when he thinks they're not working and I have a feeling he hasn't been on them for a long time. I -- Ms. are the paramedics on their way?"

"Yes, Andrew. They are about 2 minutes out. How far are you and your friends?"

"15 minutes," he responded after being prompted by Ryland. 

"Good. You all be safe. Would you like me to stay on the line?"

"Yes. Please." 

"The paramedics have just arrived. Your freind Drew is there, correct?"

"Uh, uh, yes. Yes. He couldn't get inside which is why we called you."

"I see. They're telling me they are inside. Are you far away?"

Andrew's heart caved and he prayed she had good news for them.

"3 minutes. Is he okay? Please, is he okay?"

"Andrew, your friend is fine. He was asleep." Andrew nearly threw up with relief. "I have to go now. The paramedics need to go as well. Your friend Drew is with him. Goodbye."

Andrew looked at the phone and then at Shane and Ryland and Morgan. 

"He's— He's fine." Andrew felt himself start to shake and he handed Ryland the phone. 

"He's fine and he was just asleep—" another sob cut Andrew off and Morgan wrapped her arms around him, comforting him. 

"Do you want to—" Shane started, turning onto Garrett's road and then he paused, waiting. 

"No. Just. Shane just take me home. He doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't want to see me. I—"Andrew breathed out a shaky sigh. 

"Shane, take him home," Ryland whispered, fingers resting lightly on Shane's arm. 

Shane shook his head. "No, these two have got to work out whatever the fuck is going on with them. I'm sick of dancing around them and then dancing around each other because Andrew can't come to terms with the fact that he's fucking gay for Garrett and Garrett's so scared to say anything that ignoring him works better." He let out a frustrated huff as his voice rose. A pause. Shane put the car in drive and rolled down the street and into Garrett's driveway.

"Andrew, you're going to go in there and both of you are going to talk and get this straightened the fuck out and we're not leaving until you do I don't care if we have to stay here all fucking night." Garrett's head peeped out the window between the curtains and shut it hastily when he saw the Jeep. Drew came out, a frown on his face. 

He knocked on Shane's window; Shane rolled it down. "I don't think this is a good idea, Shane." 

"I don't care what we think, these two haven't talked to each other in a month." An argument and suddenly everyone was talking at once and Andrew just put his head between his knees and cried. A throat clear and everyone was silent. 

"No, Shane." Andrew glances up and Garrett appeared, light silhouetting him as he stood in the doorway of his house. 

"I cannot do this. You came to my home and woke me up. You called the police and I don't care how scared you were. None of you but Morgan has made any attempt to talk to me in months and when you finally decide to check on me you call the cops? I'm going back to bed and I expect everyone else to, too." Garrett slammed the door and Andrew could hear the locks click from his spot inside the Jeep. 

"Go home, Shane. I'll stay here tonight. But he doesn't want to see Andrew and I think right now it's probably best you respect this. He's hurting. And Andrew is too. They need space— I know, Shane, I know. But can you not see how broken they both are? They need to do this on their own terms in their own time. Garrett won't stay mad at him forever. Take Andrew home and let them be." 

Drew turned and walked away, knocking on Garrett's door and standing there patiently as Garrett opened it and closed it quickly. 

"That used to be me," he whispered as Shane drove away. Andrew clutched the door handle and his knuckles hurt from the pressure but he was worried what he'd hit if he didn't grasp on for dear life. 

•••

Andrew sat in CVS parking lot. He did this a lot, sitting in his car at random places at random times of night. Andrew was sitting in the CVS parking lot when he got a text from Garrett. 

Garrett  
Can we talk. Please.

Garrett  
Yes. I meant to send that to you.

Andrew  
I'm at our CVS. 

Garrett  
Be there in 5. 

Andrew was nervous. Why was he so nervous? It was Garrett. But he also hadn't seen Garrett in such a long time. He missed him. Desperately. Ugh. 

He jumped when Garrett knocked on the passenger side window and Andrew unlocked his car door. 

"I brought your Kansas City hat." The first thing Garrett had said to him in months and it was about the fucking hat he gave him. 

"I told you, you could keep it." Garrett pushed the hat into Andrew's hand. 

"I feel like you need it back." 

"I don't need a fucking hat, Gare. I need you." There it was. Andrew sighed and rested his head against the steering wheel. 

"I can't. Andrew, I didn't come to make amends. I came to get some closure. I— Andrew, I'm... Andrew, I have a boyfriend."

Andrew couldn't help the sob the escaped from deep in his chest and he turned his face away from Garrett. 

"How long?"

"3 months."

"So it's serious?"

"I think I love him."

"Leave the hat on the dashboard, Garrett." He snapped. He didn't mean to but it came out snippy and irritated and sad. Andrew was so very sad. 

"I— bye, Andrew."

And if this was the last thing Andrew ever said to Garrett, he wanted to make sure Garrett remembered it. 

"I love you, Gare."

"You're too late, 'Drew."

"I know."

Garrett closed the car door and drove away, and the only thing Andrew wanted to do was follow him. 

It was a shame he couldn't.


	2. 2

The lights on the street flashed blue and purple and green behind Garrett as he walked into the bar. Sounds from outside we're muffled when the door closed and he sighed at the quiet of the hole-in-the wall the tourists hadn't found yet. He'd come home, but not for long. To visit his mom. But she'd sent him on, and told him to come visit her when he'd gotten himself in order.

So he'd come to New Orleans. To a bar that he didn't really know the name of but he knew there weren't many people there; probably because the food was too greasy or the vibe wasn't right. It was quiet— the air smelled like stale cigarettes and he wondered in the woman in the corner was a permanent fixture or if she was only an oddity as he was. Trying to see a way out of the fog and mess he'd come to appreciate. 

He had to be here anyway, to meet the squad. Might as well have a few days to himself. 

There was a familiar element here, something he thought he'd only ever find in Memphis. The people on the streets didn't know him, there were no questions of why he was alone; it was accepted. His singleness. And that's all he needed. To be okay. 

Because he was far from it. When his mom had kicked him out she'd made sure he knew that Andrew was a requirement for his return, whether he liked it or not. She hadn't listened to his insistence that Andrew would likely never be a chance; she'd only shooed him into security and kissed his cheek. 

He was trying to get better. But there was a part of him that still believed he was never going to recover.

There was an emptiness. 

After Seth had broken up with him he'd been moping. Months ago, when he'd met Andrew in the CVS parking lot, things had been fine. He'd been moving on. But Seth had ended things between them and now Garrett didn't know what to do or how to move on and all he wanted to do was watch movies with Andrew but he couldn't exactly do that and oh, he was spiraling again. 

He took a deep breath as he sat on the bar stool and motioned for the handsome bartender. 

"Hey, honey, what can I get for you?" A smile, one that reminded him too much of the brightness of Andrew's face when Garrett whispered a joke under his breath. His heart clenched.

In another life, Garrett would try to get his number. 

In this life, Garrett ordered a double Jack and asked for the bottle.

As he swirled the honey-colored liquid in his glass and listened to the music booming through the heavy wood doors, he wondered what it would be like to bring Andrew here. To sit with him in familiar places that his mom had shown him as a kid. Take him to the old buildings that Garrett loved so much. 

But he couldn't do that. For months he'd dreamed of the peace he'd felt before, when he and Andrew were still friends. When they could laugh without the implication of flirting. When a hug or legs over laps meant nothing more than comfortable friends. 

When things were easy and shiny and fun.

The door swung open and a couple walked in, noses touching, hands twisted together in a grip to keep them from floating away. Andrew would hold his hand like that, sometimes, when he felt like the world was swallowing him. He'd taken advantage of those touches, the protection, when Andrew thought they meant nothing more than friendship and stability. 

He hated lying to Andrew. He hated not talking to Andrew. 

Did he hate Andrew?

It was a silly question, of course he didn't hate Andrew. 

But as he poured more of the whiskey into his glass he wondered if maybe he did harbor a little resentment. 

Maybe, Garrett thought, this whole thing could have been avoided if he'd just been honest with everyone. Andrew had a habit of keeping things to himself, keeping things from Garrett, and maybe, just maybe, Garrett was angry. They were supposed to tell each other everything, weren't they?

His phone buzzed and broke him out of the downward swirl he was going toward, and he fished it out of his jacket pocket. Squinting at the bright screen in the dim bar, he nearly fell off the stool when he realized it was Andrew. 

Andrew   
We got an earlier flight and just landed. Just thought I'd let you know. Shane didn't want to disturb your family time. 

Garrett  
I actually came down early too. Great minds and all. 

Andrew  
You're here? Are you at the hotel?

Garrett  
No, a bar just outside of the French Quarter. 

Andrew  
Mind if I join you?

Garrett stared at his phone, and thought for a moment. Hadn't he come to avoid the others? Be alone and heal and whatnot? 

Garrett  
I'll send you the location. 

There, he'd done it then. His breath got shakier and he didn't know if that was from the alcohol or the thought of seeing Andrew after 6 months. His fingers traced the rim of the glass and he took in his surroundings. How many times had this barstool seen a friendship rekindled, or even one crumble. This dump wasn't exactly his first choice to lose Andrew forever in, but he guessed it was fitting. The letters on the bathrooms hung by loose nails, the tables creaked and wobbled, and the old lady in the corner was either dead or drunk or both, he couldn't tell. 

As for picture-perfect places, this was not one of them. He tried not to think too hard about the splintered floor under his feet, or the way the brain flickered from Open to O en whenever the song changed on the speakers. Garrett glanced at his phone and noticed more time had passed than he'd realized, nearly midnight and he'd landed at 7. Shit. 

The bottle was nearly empty when the bartender had given it to him, and as he poured the last of the 5th into his glass he made a mental note to cut himself off. 

Until he saw Andrew walking through the door. A vision, he'd always thought, but now, fuck. His hair was scrambled, wispy on top of his head disappearing under his KC hat — fuck if Garrett didn't regret giving that back every day — and the bright blue hoodie wasn't helping Garrett's heart. His shoulders were broader than Garrett remembered and his arms peeked out from the bottom of the rolled up sleeves. Garrett had a flashback, a miserable memory of Andrew pulling his sleeves down and laughing for his Coachella video; he wasn't smiling now. 

His face was turned down and he looked worried, scared. There was an expression Garrett couldn't place (he could, but if he said Andrew looked heartbroken he'd never forgive himself), and he watched Andrew for a moment before he cleared his throat. 

The soft music of the bar and the quiet conversations around them carried his voice over and Andrew's head jerked up. His eyes brightened when he saw Garrett sitting and his pace picked up as he walked the short way to the bar. 

Andrew stopped in front of Garrett and just looked at him, and if Garrett hadn't been doing the same thing he would have cracked a joke and told Andrew to stop staring. 

But he couldn't. Because Andrew was real. 

"I stopped by. A few times. But you weren't home." The first words Andrew had spoken to him since they'd seen each other. 

"I was out. I think." Garrett was unsure. This felt anything but natural and he only wanted to scoop Andrew into a hug and feel him touch his hair and his face and his heart beat out of his chest because he couldn't do this. 

He couldn't sit across from Andrew and pretend everything was fine. 

"I missed you, Garrett." The months, of wondering. Of praying, of hoping that Andrew's heart was just as sore as his was — and here he'd said exactly what Garrett wanted to hear and yet he was so guilty. Because he'd left. He'd been the one to stay away. He could have fixed everything. And still he didn't. Because he was stubborn. And Garrett didn't like to admit that he was stubborn. 

"I'm sorry." He didn't know why he said it. He knew Andrew needed a real apology. A dinner and pizza and video games and words spoken from Garrett's heart but right now he could barely remember his name so he was doing fucking fabulous to get out the simple words. 

"Don't be."

"I hurt you. I hurt us." It was brutally honest, but a selfish part of Garrett longed for Andrew to take some responsibility. 

"Garrett."

"I did. I changed everything because I was selfish." 

"You didn't change anything. At least nothing that wasn't going to change anyway." Garrett quirked an eyebrow for a moment, confusion spreading across his features. 

Andrew sighed and started again. He was sitting now, across from Garrett, hand inching toward Garrett's, waiting to curl his fingers around it if Garrett decided to run. 

"Garrett, when I — the night we met at CVS. That night. Garrett, it made me realize how fucking selfish I was being. You were only telling me the truth. I've been a shit friend. I've always been. Even when we first met. Please let me finish," he whispered, curling around Garrett's hand for support now, not protection. 

"Garrett, it's been 6 months. I haven't talked to my best friend in 6 months. And I know that you understand how I feel, because you lost me too. And fuck, I don't want anyone to ever feel like this. Especially you. It wasn't either of us by ourselves. Okay? We both— Garrett, we were both so concerned about ourselves that we never even thought about the other person. When you told Ryland, I realized that— Garrett, I should have been the one you told. I don't care if— Jesus, I know it was me, I know you're in love— you were in love with me. But I just wish we could have been— I wanted to be the one you told. I want to be the person you tell everything to."

Garrett pulled his hand away and wrapped it around the glass. He thought for a moment, how to answer this. How to respond to Andrew's not-confession. 

"Am. Present tense."

Andrew's browns pushed together and he leaned down to peer at Garrett. 

"What?"

Garrett looked up, face inches away from Andrew. 

"Am. I am in love with you. It doesn't go away. And if this is going to be another 'Oh, Garrett, you're so selfish for not thinking about me and what I need and what about our friendship,' then kindly fuck the hell ofd, Andrew." 

He longed for another bottle as he downed the rest of his drink but he refused to look up and catch the bartender's eyes because he couldn't handle Andrew's face. 

Andrew sat quietly. 

"Garrett, the night, at CVS, do you remember what I said?"

"Don't try to deflect, Andrew. Go. Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Garrett, please, just answer the question," Andrew begged, eyes sad and rounded and damp. 

Garrett huffed, but turned and faced Andrew. 

"You told me you loved me. And I told you it was too late. And I stand by that."

"Why?"

Garrett frowned. "Why, what? Why was it too late? Andrew, you only said it to get me to stay."

"Garrett, is it too late? You said it doesn't go away. I tried. I tried to give you space. I stayed away. As long as I could. Because you were happy. You seemed happy. And maybe I'm a selfish dick and maybe I should just go fuck off. But Gare." He murmured Garrett's name as he leaned in close, his hand touching Garrett's thigh. 

"Garrett, I love you."

The door opened again and music pulsed in from outside, a deep, thudding sound that made Garrett's head ache. His thighs shook as he turned in his chair and motioned for the bartender to come over. 

"Can we get a bottle of cheap scotch and two glasses?"

Garrett didn't have to look over to see Andrew smiling, knew the quirk in his lip and the way his front teeth were poking out. 

A moment later and the man was back, two glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. Garrett slid him a $100 and poured two fingers for both of them. 

"Go on then, since you wanted to give some grand declaration, do it. Neither of us will remember it in the morning and we'll both have it off our chest."

And honestly, Garrett just needed to buy time. To figure out how the fuck he was supposed to react. Here Andrew was, telling him what he'd needed to hear for months, years. And still, it didn't feel real. Some of that silence was because of the surreality of this whole ordeal— Andrew finding him in the middle of fucking nowhere halfway to drunk and a little sad, and confessing his love. What. The. Fuck. 

"—Garrett," which apparently, was a sentiment shared by Andrew. 

"I'm sorry, Andrew, but I have to know this is real."

Andrew looked intently at his glass and gulped before he turned to face Garrett. 

"Garrett, for the last 6 months, we've done nothing but ignore each other and pretend that whatever we've been feeling was bullshit. The night you left. When you left me at CVS I was broken and — and I didn't really know what to do. Because I'd just lost my best friend; I thought that. I thought when you came to talk to me that you were going to tell me that— that you were going to let me apologize. For everything. Because I'd been so worried about us and you.

"But then. Then you told me about Seth. And. My heart just broke. I don't know what I was expecting but it wasn't that. And you looked so happy. God did you look so happy. And I felt so selfish for wishing I was with you because I knew I could make you happier. I could make you smile. I was so jealous of him, Gare. You took him to our restaurants, you made him breakfast, you bought him pizza. You took him to our parties and our flea market—" Andrew bit his lip and turned away. A hand over his eyes and he downed the rest of the scotch. 

"Garrett, I love you. Not just in a 'I'm afraid I'm going to lose you,' love you. But really, fucking, love you a lot. Ass over fucking head love you. I love you when I wake up in the morning and you're not beside me; I love you when I'm filming and I don't have anyone to video and tease. I love you when I watch marvel movies and there's no one to talk through the whole movie. I love you every day when I go to sleep and you're not walking out of the shower and climbing in beside me. 

"I love you when I see your instagrams, and your snapchats. I love you when I catch your eyes from across the room. When you wear goofy T-shirt's and smile big smiles and I fucking love you so much when I make you smile."

The doors swung open again, and the music from outside was solemn. A sad song with a twang that made Garrett's heart twist. 

Andrew sat beside him, watching him, tracing his movements with his eyes and Garrett could barely breathe. 

"What do you want me to say?" Garrett whispered desperately. 

"Something you mean."

Garrett downed his own drink and placed the glass gently on the table. 

"It was always you, Andrew. Everyday, every second I was with him. It was always you."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I'd be more upset if you didn't."

"Let's leave."

Garrett whispered this as Andrew cupped his face, inches away from his lips. Andrew nodded and got up, fumbling with his phone as Garrett settled the bill. 

They stumbled out to the curb and were pinned together tightly, side-by-side as they waited for the Uber. Garrett's stomach was in knots, eating itself alive at the chance to finally kiss Andrew. 

Garrett's breath was hot against the back of Andrew's neck in the Uber to the hotel. Their hands were tangled together and Garrett didn't ever want to let go. As they neared the hotel he wondered what this would mean, what would they need to do, how would they even— he shook his head. 

"You okay?" Andrew murmured. 

"Nervous," Garrett replied softly, honestly. 

"Don't be." A gentle hand stroked his face and Garrett leaned into the touch. 

"I feel like I'm dreaming."

"It's refreshing after the nightmare the last few months have been."

Garrett's heart clenched and he pressed his forehead against Andrew's. He leaned down to kiss him but the driver pulled to the curb. 

He sighed, but pulled Andrew out of the car and into the hotel and into the elevator. 

"What floor?"

"7."

When the doors dinged open Andrew was already digging in his pocket for the key card, and he slid it into the door quickly. Garrett turned back for a moment and suddenly Andrew's lips were on his and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, everything all at once was only Andrew. 

Fingers tangled in Garrett's hair and his own hands wrapped around Andrew's waist. The warmth of Andrew's mouth steadied him, but when he thought about what was happening, what they were doing, he wanted to cry (out of joy or sadness he didn't know). As they kissed, Garrett felt the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell back, trusting Andrew to guide him where he needed to be. There was a moment, as Andrew let him get settled, that he decided this wouldn't be the best idea. That getting involved with Andrew while he was still hurting was going to be painful and upsetting and would ruin them. But then Andrew climbed over him, and cradled his face, and Garrett looked in his eyes and pulled Andrew down because the only thing that had ever saved him were those eyes. 

"Tell me again," Garrett whispered, his voice echoing in the tiny confines of the room. 

"I love you."

"Again," he moaned, when Andrew's hand palmed him through his jeans. 

"I love you, Gare." 

"Please," Garrett whimpered, when Andrew's teeth bit at his neck. 

"I love you, I love you." 

Garrett's pants were off then, abandoned somewhere next to the bed and Andrew was kissing down his neck. 

"I love you, too," Garrett murmured, before he tugged Andrew back to his mouth by his hair and kissed him roughly. 

|||

Garrett rolled over and the sun peeking through the curtains nearly blinded him. The warmth against his back and the unfamiliar room nearly made his heart jump out of his throat until he remembered what happened and where he was and he rushed to the bathroom to vomit. 

He rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet and Andrew walked in slowly, door creaking open to reveal his worried face. 

"Hungover?" He mumbled, leaning against the doorframe, body shrouded in light. 

"Freaked out," Garrett admitted. 

"I meant it, Gare. Every word of it."

"And last night?" 

"Every second."

"Are you going to mean it next week, next month, next year?" He whispered. He was getting ahead of himself but he was so afraid. Losing Andrew again. The way he did— it would kill him this time. 

Andrew sat down beside him and leaned against the tub; he pulled Garrett between his legs and peppered soft kisses up and down his face. 

"Always, Gare. I've loved you for so long, it just took me a little while to realize it. But I'm not leaving. I'm not losing you again," he answered. Garrett could feel Andrew's heart pounding in his chest, but he had to trust it was from excitement and not because Andrew was lying to him. 

"I trust you. Andrew."

"That's all I need."

"We have to tell the squad," Andrew mumbled into Garrett's hair. Garrett knew his shoulder was digging into Andrew's chest but he didn't care. This feeling and warmth, this comfort was undeniable and he didn't want to leave. He glanced up and sighed.

"I think they already know," Garrett whispered, motioning to the open door and Shane's shocked expression. 

"Fuck me up, I can't — Ryland," Shane yelled into the hallway and Garrett rolled his eyes, but burrowed deeper into Andrew's chest. 

"Oh my god."

"Are they—"

"Did you—"

"Shane!"

"Guys," Andrew replied, snapping only a little bit. 

They quieted down, Morgan still grinning and Ryland looking confused but excited. 

"We'll talk about it when we're ready, we just need some time, okay? We haven't even— Jesus we haven't even talked to each other this morning. Just. Give us the day, alright? And we'll tell you and talk about when we're ready."

They all nodded together and back out of the room, and if Ryland had to tug on Morgan's shirt when they left, Garrett and Andrew didn't mind. 

"They seemed excited."

"Yeah."

"Are we going to talk about—"

"I love you, Andrew. I don't care— I don't care if we ever label this or whatever. I just know I love you and I want you to be with me for the rest of my life."

"I knew it wasn't too late," Andrew whispered, arms still tight around Garrett's waist and his back placed firmly against the cool tile of the bathtub. His lips found Garrett's ear and he murmured gentle "I love yous," against it until Garrett got his color back and they could climb into bed. 

Garrett traced the veins Andrew's arms and watched the goosebumps pop up. 

"You were never going to be too late, Andrew. Because I've always wanted you. I've always loved you. And even if you came later. It was never— Andrew, I love you so damn much." 

"I know, it's just a shame we didn't realize it sooner."


End file.
